


Night Moves

by Matthew1972



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Sam Winchester, Background Dean Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Coda, Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Hidden Talents, Hugs, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Making Out, POV Sam Winchester, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matthew1972/pseuds/Matthew1972
Summary: What happens after the season 11 episode 'Baby' when our boys and their car return to the bunker battered and bruised? Rather than to jump straight onto the next case it makes sense for our hunters and their angel to take a break, because Baby too needs to heal. So, this is my take on the aftermath of Sam inviting Castiel into his room to watch Netflix… with the two of them growing closer in private while Dean fixes his Baby. Oh, and Castiel uncovers a hidden talent Sam has always kept hidden…
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Night Moves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elendraug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/gifts).



Everything Sam is pauses the second he limps into his bedroom. Voices, light and life meet him rather than the dark silence of his on any other night empty retreat between four walls. What he hasn't been able to call home feels different tonight, because Castiel has taken him up on his invitation. His bedroom has become more somehow. From the glow of the switched-on television to the being so wrapped in whatever is on Netflix that he's failed to notice his arrival.

Sam can't help but smile in fondness of his dearest friend. For an angel he's never looked more human… almost fragile even. Maybe it is because he's ditched his trench coat? Or the mess he's made of his bed, lounging on his blankets as if he belongs, crumpled suit and all? It can also be the way his eyes are glistening with emotions. Normally so vivid blue irises are holding so much grief within them that Sam knows Castiel hasn't healed yet, far from it. That he needs time to forget the horrors he's been through… the loss too of a dear friend, of the angel Hannah.

Of course, Sam knows that if it comes down to it Castiel is stronger than anyone else. Though his powers are not as mind-blowing strong anymore as before Sam is often reminded of the soldier in the core of his being. For what he believes in Castiel will upturn Heaven, Earth and even Hell if need be. Out of love too he will go to the end of the world… and beyond. This Sam admires about him more than any other trait. No one else is more loyal to them or their cause. That is why it hurts Sam to watch him suffer each time when Heaven or his brothers dismiss him… for choosing the side of humanity or whatever other stupid, narrow-minded reason they have to deny him the freedom of making his own choices. Why does Castiel have to lose so much?

Unwilling to add onto the pain Sam decides to leave Castiel be and crash somewhere else, since there are plenty of guest bedrooms in the bunker. What right does he even have to ask to be healed? None, not in his eyes. His hand is still on the door handle, and on his next breath Sam sets out to close it back behind him… except that his stupid body doesn't quite respond like it does when not battered. By far too well does it remember how it got thrown, right side first, against a wall. As a result, Sam stumbles more than that he takes a step back into the hallway. Pure anguish shoots up into his leg and hip, and he all but falls… into unexpected waiting arms of support.

"Sam!"

Blood trickles in his right eye, from the re-opened cuts on his face, when he meets the full-on look of care, etched by worry and far too knowing scrutiny. "You shouldn't have to…"

Cool fingers come to rest against his forehead while the flash of blue intensifies, merciless in their emotions for him. Castiel won't take no for an answer. "You are hurt. I can help… allow me, Sam. At least then I am less of a hindrance or a failure."

Sam shakes his head. "You are neither… not to me, or us."

Castiel still doesn't yield, but his wry smile of disbelief eases the frown of concern and it too tears down whatever protest Sam may have left to give. In the face of such want he falters… because that desire to help others is one he knows only too well himself. Castiel needs purpose rather than to wallow in what can't be changed. Time to heal… friends to stand by him too. And that Sam can give him. "All right." He relents with a nod. "If it's not too much to ask for, maybe you can help Dean as well?"

"Of course, but one brother at the time."

Even as Castiel speaks his eyes shift to light up with his angelic grace, a healing power which never fails to take Sam's breath away. It rushes through his skin and bones unlike anything else can. Wounds seal closed, muscles uncoil, and his bruises ease away until he feels almost whole again… except that he's still bone deep tired. So exhausted in fact that he can't find it within him to fight the hands and arms which help him to ditch his boots and flannels. Sam can only stumble towards the bed and for a change let someone other than his brother tuck him in safe and sound.

* * *

For a breath Sam isn't sure of where he wakes up. His brain is slow to take in his surroundings, because it recognizes that there's no need for fear and so it doesn't hurry to connect the dots. In fact, he's not felt quite so comfortable in a while and it's been ages ago since he has slept so well, without nightmares or restless thoughts to wake him well before dawn. Though he is a morning person, Sam is almost reluctant today to let go of the peace. His by hunting sharpened senses however are ahead of him…

Sam can tell now that his television is still turned on, the sound low like distant whispers. The light by the bed seems to attempt to pry open his closed eyelids. Instead he burrows his head deeper into the pillow… or rather, a clothed thigh of warm flesh… a person, whom he is drooling on if he's not mistaken. At once feeling the awkwardness of his position rise tenfold Sam shoots awake to make sense of the why and how. But rather than be allowed up Castiel presses a warm palm against his flank to urge him to stay and settle him down, back on his thigh.

"No need. You are safe, so sleep…", Castiel says.

Incredulous, he looks up at the angel. "What?"

"Dean said to let you have a lie in, and I wanted to make sure you did indeed, sleep."

Sam can't help but blink under the gaze of pure innocence. So often in the past Dean has grumbled about Castiel not understanding the concept of personal space. Of how humans needed some privacy and it was damned well creepy if someone watched over them in quite such a literal manner. But Sam? He can't help but blush, because this… waking up next to another person is something he missed without knowing. Ached for in body and soul. And even though maybe someone damaged and tainted like him should not have this, Sam doesn't want to move away from Castiel and his comfortable presence.

"You are thinking too loud… not unlike myself." Castiel blurts out before Sam can speak. "Perhaps I should watch television, like you said, but I find myself too distracted by thoughts…. memories of what that spell did to me. Losing Hannah was my fault…"

"Don't…" Sam looks up at him to meet with tear filled eyes. "I am sure it wasn't. Those angels made their own choices, as do we all."

"But she deserved better."

"I am sure she did." Sam sighs, because he understands the pain too well. Losing people who were so much better than he can ever be himself… it hurts beyond reason. Grief too is tangible in Castiel. Part of Sam wants to reach up, kiss him and maybe hold him, but he's not that brave and he feels far too afraid to lose a friend over wanting, feeling so much more than he should. "Fate can be a cruel mistress, but Cas, you will remember Hannah as she was and so she isn't lost for nothing. She has touched you, maybe even made you a better person?"

Fingers card into his hair, absent-minded, because Castiel looks to be far away. Maybe not even in the same room as he is anymore. Sam though can feel how his fingers are brushing over his scalp as the angel plays with the mess of his long locks fanned out over his thigh. His heart leaps with emotions, can't not, under the touch of such comfort and closeness. A soft moan escapes from his lips and somehow it's enough to return Castiel to him. Blue irises now twinkle brighter, less painfully so, when the angel meets his patient gaze. "I am not sure of anything. I feel that I should be out there, helping you deal with the Darkness, but I don't know how to."

"By healing first. The spell Rowena cast on you did a real number on your essence and there is no shame in needing time to recover. If we need you we call, you know. Still, Dean needs to fix the Impala first, because he refuses to drive us anywhere without her. So you may be stuck with us for a while."

Castiel grins at that, while to Sam's reluctance he pulls back his hand of comfort. "Dean was rather proud of his car. Said she brought you home to me and that it is a shame my 'mojo' is worthless on her."

Sam can't help but grin at the quotation marks Castiel arches with his fingers in the air. It's almost absurd how he's picked up on some of Dean's mannerisms and expressions, but it too fits their angelic friend somehow, because it speaks of his love without saying the actual words. "Whatever… your grace served _my_ body more than well. Thanks, Cas", he says with a smile of gratitude, because hell yeah… he does feel a lot better today than he's done in a while.

"Always." Castiel too smiles, but his attention also drifts back to the television, his new source of distraction. After a few long seconds he belatedly asks, "Would you mind if I stay… if we share your bed?"

Sam smiles at that, closing his eyes to extend the morning cuddle under the cover of a rare sleep in. "I believe we already are."

* * *

Though breakfast and a late morning jog pull Sam from his bedroom for a while he returns there with a pile of books in his arms. Under the guise of doing research he settles at his desk. Sam isn't sure of why he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts even when he isn't willing to speak of them or have someone else interrupt them. Truth is, he's lost on what they are. Can it be that God is sending him a message? He's almost afraid to ask Castiel… and so, for now, he doesn't speak of it.

Instead Sam turns to the lore, at least for a while. The sound of the television and the soft murmurs of comments about what's so illogical about human characters from Castiel form a soothing background to his restless mood. Every now and then Sam glances at his bedroom visitor, who's appearance seems to get messier with the hour. After his trench coat he has now ditched his suit jacket too. His white dress shirt crumples up further around his chest, exposing the good shape his human vessel is in even through the thin fabric. Fuck, but the sight is almost tempting Sam to touch.

No, he can't! Shouldn't give in to the crazy ass emotions he's been feeling for a while. They are friends, if even that, but nothing more. The life of hunters and angels alike is too dangerous to risk the loss of friendship. Dean too needs Castiel, depends on him, though he is too proud to say it. Sam won't risk a fall out, can't… and so rather than touch he reaches for his sketchbook and pencil. If he works silently the angel won't know and he'll continue watching the television. Sam can keep his artistic side to himself, like he's always done since he was a boy…

Finding an empty page, Sam draws a first hesitant line. More curves and angles follow suit until he has created a vague human shape. Eyes, nose, mouth… and he now looks a little more familiar to him. Hmm, the lips need to be fuller, more waiting to be kissed. Sam touches onto the lines, wider and bolder, and onwards, further down the body of his subject, his angel on the bed. The collar and crooked tie, a line of buttons of which a few are held on a precarious edge as if waiting to break free and expose Castiel before him.

What if the shirt was gone? Sam swallows down the rise of more sinful thoughts. Shifting in his chair, he denies his want in favour of drawing on and shaping his version of reality from what is there before him, taking a few liberties with it. In his world of pencil, the buttons are indeed open. Suit trousers too are half undone, those thick thighs and long legs not exposed, but begging to be. Fuck, but now that Sam is looking so much closer, he can't deny how handsome Castiel is to him. For so long he's kept his distance and he knows that he ought to keep it still, but at least with the pencil he can speak of what he won't in person.

Time ticks him by unseen, because Sam draws in further to his sketch and he shuts out the real world. Each line becomes more detailed now. His pencil drawn angel now too leans against the pillows, sensual and a picture far less pristine than the one in reality. Still… in both worlds his bed, the bedsheets and blankets are a mess. The real Castiel looks comfortable, more so than Sam has ever seen him. Sure, sorrow too clings to him, but it is the nature of who they are and the hard life they are leading. In here though… inside of his bedroom… they can escape their burdens for a while. Is the bunker home? Sam can almost learn to accept that maybe it can be. It feels like for today it is.

"Sam?"

The gentle press of a hand curling soft around his left shoulder startles Sam from the paper and onto the object of his fascination. Blushing, he looks up at Castiel, who has moved without a sound. Now standing right next to him, the angel looks past him and at the sketch. "It's not…", Sam stammers. What if Castiel hates it? He can't think beyond how obvious his work is in exposing how he feels about him.

Too stunned to hide his sketch away Sam watches as Castiel wraps the long fingers of his other hand around the sketchbook to pick it up. "So many years and you still manage to amaze me." Castiel breaks through his tension with a deep voice of awe. His wide eyes stay glued onto his drawn self, glistening with unshed pain and soon changing towards something far softer, like unfathomable emotions of pure intensity. "Sam… Is this how you see me?"

Shaking his head, Sam reaches out to his sketchbook to steal it back and maybe go run. "Forget it, Cas, please… I…" His heart beats almost too fast. He can't think beyond how his secret is out, because of how he took artistic liberties with their reality.

"I thought it was only I who felt more than friendship…" Castiel denies him the retreat in favour of holding onto his shoulder a little tighter. Resting aside his sketch book with a parting brush of his thumb, he adds, "… when maybe all along you felt it too…"

Sam blinks when Castiel leans down to him, closing the distance slowly. Eyes narrow into his. More so than anything else there lies a blunt wonder in them now… a plea almost for him to understand and answer something for them both. Lost into the deep gaze of love Sam refuses to look away. He can only nod, feels what is coming before at last nothing remains between them. One breath shared and he too moves to shut up the voice of longing. Can he have him after all?

* * *

The first touch of their lips clashing together ends all doubts Sam had. Castiel tastes of the chocolate chip cookies they'd shared and something unearthly. His lips feel warm, soft and oh so pliant against his too. Sam lets out a gasp of pleasure, and he steals a second kiss, because the first one wasn't enough. He _has_ to have more of feels so right. To his joy Castiel answers his response in kind, teasing the tip of his tongue over his lips until Sam opens for him.

Who needs air? Sam continues kissing his angel while fingers curl around the nape of his neck to keep them linked. Want silences everything else. Around him the world can explode and for once he wouldn't care, because he can die happy while being kissed breathless. Sam can't help but want Castiel closer though and so he pulls the angel down into his lap.

Inevitably he must break away and come up for air. Reluctant to part with Castiel for longer than his lungs need him to Sam rests his forehead against the angel. Panting, he looks at him, from his by lust blown pupils to kiss swollen lips. More so than before his appearance is ruffled… and Sam takes pride in it. Can't help but smile in his fondness of the being in his lap. He takes too much joy as well in those hands clinging to his flank and neck so that they won't have to part. "Cas… how long?"

Castiel shrugs. "I am unsure, but last night, as you slept… I was tempted to act on it."

"I see…" But does he? Even now when they've kissed Sam can't help but feel insecure about what he wants and how he feels. What he does know though is that he is afraid of losing Castiel without knowing his touch or kiss. Isn't it better to have and lose than to live in fear? Maybe he should take a page out of Dean's book. Live in the now… own the bubble of peace which has bewitched his bedroom. "Cas…"

Sam can't say anything more, because lips reclaim his mouth with more sureness than he's seen since he first came back to the bunker. Helpless under the passionate assault of tender kisses and licks he answers each one best as he can. Fuck, but had he known Castiel could kiss like this he'd wanted it even sooner!

Unable to keep his hands away from Castiel he pries open the once straining buttons of his white dress shirt. Sam doesn't bother with the blue striped tie, instead he moves past it to map out the now naked chest with both of his hands until his fingers find a nipple to play with. Pinching it, he smiles when the angel in his lap arches towards his touch and he moans into his mouth as if a plea for more. Encouraged by the low, beautiful sounds Castiel is making Sam pulls him closer.

They break again for air, but Sam doesn't stop teasing naked skin where he can reach. Castiel too sneaks his fingers under his flannel and shirt to brush them over his spine and play with the dip of skin above his ass cheeks. Always teasing… but before Sam can ask for more Castiel retakes his voice by kissing him hard, as if there is no tomorrow…

"Sammy!" At the shout of his name, coming from afar, reality pierces into the bubble of their heated moment. Dean stomps through the hallways of the bunker in confident strides, the sound of him drifting towards them. "Baby is ready to go and so am I. Dude, are you still in bed?"

Wide eyed Sam breaks from the kiss with a groan of frustration. Why now? Castiel too looks as lost and regretful as he does. "Cas… I…"

"You have to go." The angel slips from his lap, hurrying to do up the buttons of his shirt and looking adorable still to Sam while doing so. "When we don't know what this is… what we want… it is too soon for us to tell him, yes?"

"Yes." Sam rises too to help Castiel straighten his tie and tame his messy bed hair a little into something more presentable, less 'I got molested by your little brother'. Before he can stop himself short Sam presses a chaste kiss onto the warm lips, which he already misses far more than he should. Blushing, he asks, "Can we finish this later?"

"When you come home", Castiel answers with a wry smile. "I will be here."

Sam finishes in time to hide his arousal under his flannel when Dean all but storms into his bedroom. "I've found us a case. A milk run… werewolves by the sound of it, not far from here. Are you coming?"

"Sure." Sam goes after Dean, who rushes off as fast as he'd entered. At the door though he pauses to see Castiel reclaim his bed and television. The bubble they've shared but minutes ago lies in tatters, not forgotten, but irretrievable all the same. Sam offers Castiel a wistful smile, mouthing a 'later' and leaving with a lighter heart somehow. Even with their insane lives they can always create another moment, right?

THE END


End file.
